Broken Lines
by TheWheelWeaves
Summary: Throughout his lives, the Doctor has saved millions in the most extraordinary ways, but he's saved one girl many times in the most ordinary ways.
1. Doctor 1, Age 3

Rose Tyler was three years old. Mickey Smith (8, and proud with it) was supposed to be keeping an eye on her, but his attention was stolen by the new football his grandmother had bought for him for the end of the school year. The little blonde child wasn't nearly as interesting as pretending that he played for Manchester United. He was too young to realize what Jackie Tyler would do to him if he let little Rose get hurt.

Rose Tyler was glad to be on her own. There were two sliding boards in the play park. One was short, only a little bit taller than she was herself, and the ladder to the top had wide rungs upon which her clumsy feet found easy purchase. The second sliding board, however, was impossibly tall; taller even than Rose's mother with a ladder made of rusting, rounded pipe that would give her no purchase to hold on with her feet. Rose had watched the older children (Mickey included) climb to the top and sail down at impossible speeds. Her mother had said that she was under no circumstances allowed to even _attempt_ to slide down that slide. Rose had been attempting it almost nonstop since.

Rose would wait until her mother or Mickey or Bev or cousin Mo were distracted and not keeping a close eye on her. Then she would creep over to the huge sliding board, and try to climb the ladder. The first time, she had gotten three rungs up, lost her footing, lost her grip, dropped to the ground and landed with a loud _THUMP_ on her backside. She had started bawling immediately, and her mother had rushed to her side with soft words of comfort and ease. As soon as Jackie understood what Rose had done, however, her gentle words had turned into strident remonstrations. She had then told Rose that if she attempted to climb the ladder again, she wouldn't be allowed back to the play park for two whole weeks.

Rose hadn't attempted the ladder again that day, knowing that her mother was watching her like a hawk. She waited until the next time that she was at the park, waited until her mother got into a chat with one of their neighbors, and attempted again. This time, she did not lose her grip, or fall off the ladder. She got up six rungs and looked down. The smaller slide only had five rungs, and she was higher than she had ever been before. The view of the ground made Rose freeze up, and in that position she stayed until Jackie noticed and pulled her off of the ladder. Rose didn't see the play park again for two weeks.

Since that time, Rose had tried a total of six times to climb to the top of the sliding board. She had three times climbed up (higher each time), accidentally glanced down at the ground, and not been able to continue. She had learned how to climb back down after the second time that Jackie had found her frozen to the ladder (this time they had stayed away from the park for three weeks and Rose had nearly gone mad in their little flat). The other three times, Rose had fallen. She never fell from far, and she had learned, after the first time, not to cry, no matter how much her bottom (or elbow, or knee) hurt after the fall.

Today, Rose faced the ladder again, like Sisyphus before his mountain. The ladder had 13 rungs, and she had never been higher than rung nine. _Today,_ she vowed silently in her head, _today is the day._

Rose put her hands on the third rung, and put first her right, then her left foot onto the first. She was off the ground.

Fourth rung, first her right hand then her left. Right foot on the second, left foot on the second.

She kept her eyes trained above her. She _would not_ look down.

Upward she climbed, third rung, fourth, fifth. On the sixth rung, her left foot nearly slipped, but she clung to the eighth rung and her right foot remained planted. Her left found purchase quickly. Rose halted for a moment and heaved a small sigh. She refused to look down, but she knew that she was very high, and if she fell, she would hurt herself very badly. Her mother would probably never forgive her.

She took a moment to look around her. Mickey was still in the corner, completely ignoring her in favor of the imagined screams of imagined crowds as he made a game-winning goal for England. Rose was still safe.

She trained her eyes upward again and reached for the next bar. Three more, and she was as high on the ladder as she had ever been. Rose took a deep breath and reached now for the next (and second-to-last bar).

"Good gracious me!"

The voice issued from just behind Rose, and was completely unfamiliar. She was so startled that she very nearly lost her grip on the ladder, but a pair of gentle hands reached out and steadied her so that her feet did not slip.

"'Fanks."

Rose resumed her climb to the top. She was a naturally curious child, but this climb had proven so fraught already, that she did not feel safe stopping to examine her savior until she had reached the platform at the top of the slide.

This time, with the knowledge that there were hands that would catch her if she fell, Rose Tyler made it to the top of the slide. Once on the platform, she turned to look at her assistant.

She had been correct in believing that he was unknown to her. He looked old. Older than her grandfather had been when he had died, and he'd been 65 (impossibly ancient to a two-year-old). This man had soft wrinkled skin, white candyfloss hair, plaid trousers, a striped waistcoat, cut-away black jacket, and a type of tie that Rose had never seen before. He was a funny looking old man, and Rose smiled at him brilliantly.

"H'lo. Thank you for catching me. Please don't tell my mum I was climbing the slide, or she'll never let me come to the play park again. My name is Rose. I like your tie." Rose's voice was a high, lisping, lilting thing.

The man raised a single, sardonic eyebrow at the stream-of-consciousness that issued from the infant's mouth. His own mouth did not move, the corners did not lift, but Rose could tell, from the twinkle in his light eyes, that he was smiling, even if his mouth didn't know it. Her guileless smile ratcheted up another level of brilliance.

"It is called a cravat," the old man said in his clipped, exact, and cold. Rose's smile dimmed slightly in response the rudeness.

"I've never seen one before," Rose's response was just slightly petulant, her smile replaced with a small pout.

"You have made it your destination, apparently against your mother's wishes. Are you planning to stand and talk there all day, or was there some purpose to this expedition?" The man's voice remained cold and sarcastic. Rose's pout disappeared, replaced with an infantile scowl and glare that she directed at the rude old man. She turned to look at the play park from her vantage above it.

The play park on the edge of the Powell Estates in London was hardly the sort of place that tourist postcards would be shot. It was covered in litter, surrounded by concrete, and entirely dilapidated. Rose's heart, which loved unconditionally, however, saw it as her beautiful kingdom, and she stood above it loving everything about it.

After having looked her fill, Rose turned back to the rude old man who continued to watch her. She flashed a grin that was part mischief, part challenge, sat herself on the edge of the slide, and pushed herself off the edge with hands that only barely shook.

The ride was just as gorgeous as she had always believed it would be. Impossibly smooth and fast and absolutely wonderful. At the end of the ride, she tumbled off the bottom of the slide onto the gravel of the play park laughing like a maniac. The old man knelt beside her, and looked her over for obvious injuries, but she continued to laugh. When finally she calmed, the old man was settled on his heels beside her, watching her with an oddly wistful expression.

"Was it worth the climb?"

"Oh yes. It was fantastic!"

The old man gave a sad smile, and rose. He looked down at the little girl, the odd look in his eyes again.

"It was very good to meet you, my dear," he said, quietly.

"You too, mister!" Rose cried, as she ran off to find Mickey.

She never saw the man again, and it wasn't until she was home with her mother that Rose Tyler realized that she had never asked the man's name.


	2. Doctor 2, Age 14

Rose and Jackie Tyler had been fighting. Again.

Jackie had called Rose a spoiled little brat. Rose had shrieked that Jackie managed to find money for gin and dates, but not a couple of quid to let Rose go see a movie with Shireen. Jackie had slapped Rose. Rose had left the flat to take a long storm through the neighborhood.

Shireen's mum worked at the same salon that Jackie did, you'd think they could both afford to send their daughters to the movie. But no! Shireen's mum had agreed immediately, and even given her daughter enough to buy either popcorn or a drink with, but Jackie had said that it couldn't be done this week, Rose would just have to wait until the movie was out on video.

It was hard enough at school where the girls from nicer neighborhoods laughed at Rose behind their hands. At least Shireen was there beside her, and Mickey was a few levels above them and could keep an eye out. He was good that way, Mickey. But now, to have someone who lived on the Estate with her have it better than she did, Rose wanted to scream.

Rose walked for nearly an hour, and in that time she calmed down. She also remembered the previous week. The uppers of her trainers had come completely away from the bottoms. She had told her mum that she needed new shoes and, without another thought, Jackie had taken Rose to the shops. They had a fun day out, they got chips and Rose got a new pair of hot pink plimsolls, and she had felt wonderful going back to school.

Rose flushed with shame and inward-focused fury for having forgotten, and accusing her mother of such horrible things. She needed to get home right now and tell her mother that she was sorry. Rose looked up to determine where she needed to go, and realized that she had gone much farther than she had intended. She had completely left the Estate, and the street she was on was only vaguely familiar. She couldn't quite place where she was, and knew that she wouldn't be able to get home from here.

Rose turned on her heel hoping to get to a main thoroughfare and find her way from there. Otherwise she would have to ask for directions in a shop, if she could find a shop.

The shadows on these unfamiliar streets felt sinister. For the first time in her life, Rose felt alone and vulnerable. It is an odd thing for a 14-year-old to feel that they are in true danger. In general, the world holds no terrors for a child of that age, but Rose was afraid that night. She jumped at shadows and shivered at noises and scuffles. Finally, at the mouth of a dark alley like a monster's gaping maw, she heard the worst thing she'd heard all night."

"Oi, darling! Need someone to show you a good time?"

Emerging from the alley was a man. Maybe he was 25, maybe as much as 30. He moved with the carefully precise movements of a man who has had too much to drink. He leered at her as Rose backed away from him.

"Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be out at night alone. You never know who might be… lurking."

The man paused on the last word, tasted it, made it obscene. Rose turned to run, and planted her face into the chest of another man who seemed to have appeared, as if out of nowhere, behind her. His hands went to her arms to steady her as she teetered on the point of falling.

"Quite right, that," the man who had Rose's arms in his was saying, "wouldn't want to run into anyone unsavory." His voice was plummy but nasal.

"No worries, mate," this from the first man, with the London accent, "I can get Ducky here home. Think she'd enjoy my company, really."

Rose shuddered at the thought. The man who continued to hold her arms noticed and whispered to her, "when I say run, run."

"I don't know. We could ask her what she thinks. I'm sure she's clever and has an opinion."

The arms finally let go of Rose's and she stepped away, looking up into the face of her rescuer. It was a homely face. The nose was pointed, he had deep lines around his mouth and sunken eyes. His black hair was poorly cut and messy about his face and across his brow. He wore a terrible stovepipe hat, rumpled oxford, ill-fitting suitcoat, brown trousers, and a poorly-tied bowtie. He looked at her carefully with light eyes.

Despite that he had saved her, Rose could not trust him.

"I'll just go on my own, thanks," Rose said. She turned and ran as fast as she could away from the two men. She did not hear them following and, two streets later, she slowed to a walk again, pressed into the wall of a building in the shadows, hoping not to be found.

"It's really not safe for you to be walking alone, that man was right, if for the wrong reasons."

Rose gasped. The poorly-dressed man was standing at the mouth of the street where she hid. He looked right at her, though it should have been too dark for him to see her.

"Go away," she said, rudely, "I don't want to go home with you, or have sex with you, or whatever it is that you're wanting from me."

The look of surprise on the man's face would have been comical, had Rose not been so frightened.

"I? Sex? Never! Just wanted… Only wished… Wanted to help! Nothing of the… Not with you!" the man stumbled through an oddly garbled series of not-quite-statements.

"Oi! What's wrong with me?" It shouldn't have mattered, after all, Rose was not attracted to this man and did not want to continue this conversation at all, but his statement 'not with you' had hit a nerve in her young pride.

"Among other things, you're a child," the man's voice took on the pedantic air of a man explaining the obvious to someone quite thick. Rose supposed that was fair, she didn't feel terribly clever right now.

"Look," she began, stepping out of the shadows, "I'm sorry. Can you point me towards the Powell Estate? I'll try not to get accosted between here and there."

"I shall walk with you," the man said stiffly, "to ensure that is the case."

"Fine. Seriously though, I don't know where I am or which direction to go."

"Hmmm," the man hummed momentarily through his nose. Rose had the odd impression that the man was disappointed with her. From a pocket he produced a slim recorder, blew four discordant notes on it, and pointed in the direction that Rose had been running. Rose turned in that direction, and the man fell into step beside her. Every few streets, the man would blow another few notes on the recorder and either change their direction or continue on.

They reached the play park on the edge of the Estate first.

"Look, my place is just up the road. No need to follow me home, I'll be fine."

"I suppose you will. Please take care, child."

Rose ran towards home, putting both men out of her mind while she considered how best to apologize to her mum.


	3. Doctor 3, Age 16

Rose Tyler wanted to be anywhere else in the universe but here.

Well, she supposed that she wouldn't rather be dying, or running for her life, or being chased by space aliens, or threatened with a gun, but even those things were held with nearly equal esteem to attending her school's "Careers Day."

Rose was 16 and wanted to be either a singer or a fashion designer, and neither option was represented in the booths that were set up throughout the school's gymnasium. Shireen had gone off in search of a booth on becoming a chef, and it seemed that every halfway interesting looking booth had someone that Rose disliked or who disliked Rose standing at it. Rose was not in the mood.

She wandered the aisles up and down and up again until she saw a small booth, set back a bit from an army recruitment booth with only four letters on it- U.N.I.T. The man sitting behind the booth was one of the most peculiar that Rose had ever seen. She wandered over and plopped into the chair in front of the booth and extended her hand.

"Good afternoon, my name is Rose T-"

The man ignored Rose's hand and began to speak as though he were reading something somewhat distasteful and pre-prepared.

"Welcome to U.N.I.T., the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. We are a group under the auspices of the United Nations who research and discover data that is newly known…"

Rose had stopped listening after only a few words. The man appeared to be as bored as she was, and he was more interesting to look at than to listen to. He was tall and slim with light hair. Though he was probably in his late 40s, his hair had not greyed. It appeared to be a naturally light light blonde that Rose wished hers could still do naturally (hers had started to darken around her 12th birthday, and she'd first started dying it blonde when she was around 15). He was wearing a velvet coat the color of a plum, and trousers in the same color. His shirt had ruffles down the front, and he wore an odd sort of tie (a clipped, precise voice in the back of Rose's head supplied the word _cravat_). Best of all, however, was the fact that he appeared to be wearing a cape!

"Young lady, young _lady_!" the man's voice was quite irritated, suddenly. "If you are going to sit here, you cannot ignore me, now _listen_ to me!"

"Sorry, guess I'm just a bit tired. Do you have a pamphlet or something?"

The man gave an irritable sigh and reached under the table to withdraw a pamphlet and hand it to Rose. He then sat back and glared at her in silence. Rose flipped through the pamphlet that had been handed to her in a bored way.

"Oi, this says that U.N.I.T stands for United Intelligence Taskforce. The UN isn't mentioned at all. What are you playing at?"

"What year is it?"

"You mean the year on the pamphlet? Looks like just last year, 2001."

"I am late."

"Yeah?" Rose looked down at her watch, "seems to be the right time. Cutting into the lunch break, just like you're supposed to."

The man frowned at her, "that is not what I meant by late."

At that point, a much younger man in military dress came up behind the table, looking askance at the back of the oddly dressed man sitting at the table.

"Um, excuse me but…" when the oddly dressed man stood and turned to the military man, the words stuttered to a halt.

"Doc- Maj- Science Officer, sir!" the man sprang to attention and saluted. Rose was surprised. A Major? Possibly a doctor? Science office?

The military man continued, "sir, what are you doing here? How?"

The man in plum velvet frowned down at the military man, "how I come to be here has a great deal to do with last night taking an unfortunate turn toward brandy, and leaving my head too fuzzy to make the correct calculations this morning. Now, I am late, and if I do not leave now, I will never get here in time."

"Yes sir, of course sir. It was an honor to meet you sir."

"Quite right, too." And with that, the oddly dressed man swept out of the room.

The boy stared after him for several long moments before noticing Rose sitting at the table.

"Oh hello, so sorry to ignore you. Just… well, you don't meet a legend like him every day, eh?"

"Legends usually wear purple capes?"

The young man laughed a bit, "yeah, s'pose they do sometimes. He's very late, however. I know he made it in the end, but I think he might get yelled at a bit."

"Guess that happens sometimes in the military," Rose said uncertainly. The boy and the man hadn't made a lot of sense this entire time.

"What did the Major tell you?"

"U.N.I.T., United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. That's mostly it, really, 'fore I noticed that the UN ain't mentioned in the pamphlet at all and he got going on like a white rabbit with a pocket watch."

"Well, he would think that, wouldn't he? No, UNIT is the United Intelligence Taskforce now, we became independent of the UN in the late '70s, early '80s."

"Why didn't he know that then? Major should know what's going on in his organization."

The boy looked at her sharply for a moment before deciding how to answer, "well, he's from another time, you see."

"Ah. Member of the old boys club then. Bit out of touch?"

"You could say that, I suppose."

"Well, looks like they're finally letting us go to lunch, so thanks for the chat, mate."

"Lovely to meet you."

Rose left without a backward glance, leaving even the pamphlet behind on the table. By the time she had found Shireen, and they had gotten their chips, she thought no more of the conversation at the U.N.I.T. table.


	4. Doctor 4, Age 12

This was going to be the worst Christmas ever, Rose Tyler thought to herself. The heater had broken two weeks ago, and her mum was spending every cent paying off the repairman in installments. They'd had a serious talk over breakfast this morning about how there wouldn't be anything much for Christmas and Rose, trying to be as adult and sympathetic as possible, had nodded in complete agreement with her mother.

On her walk to school, however, Rose fumed. It wasn't that she was mad at Jackie. It wasn't Jackie's fault any more than it was Rose's fault, or her dead father's fault. It just _was_, and no denying it. It didn't stop Rose from feeling angry about the injustice of it all. Not that she minded not getting the new socks and scarf that her mother always got her. She would absolutely not miss the Satsuma that always seemed to be in the bottom of her stocking. She'd be a little disappointed about not getting any of the chocolate that she usually got every year, but even that was a price she was willing to pay.

She mourned her new bike, however. She knew it wasn't fair, her mum had never officially said that she would get it for Christmas, but Rose had been so sure! She'd convinced Mickey to teach her to ride his old bike, and he'd been doing a good job. She was learning fast.

She could probably convince Mickey to give her that old bike, but it was still too big for her, and it was black (Rose's least favorite color) and the paint wasn't shiny and new anymore. She had found the perfect bike- brilliantly red and just the right size- and shown it to her mother three weeks ago. Her mum had been wavering for two weeks, and then the stupid heater had to break during the most bitter winter most people could remember, and everything got ruined.

Rose sniffled a bit. It was a bitterly cold winter, but it hadn't snowed. It sleeted once or twice, then froze right back up to make the streets and sidewalks treacherous, but there was no glorious white snow on the ground to make it all better.

Rose passed the bike shop on her way to school every day. It was going to be so tragic to walk by and see it there in the window, and know it would never now be hers.

For a few minutes, Rose stood looking at the bike that should have been hers. She could feel the tears welling up behind her eyes and sniffled again, hoping that the tears wouldn't leak. Besides not wanting to cry, she was sure that they would freeze to her face.

"Would you like a Jelly Baby?"

Rose jumped. The voice that seemed to have come out of nowhere to her left (near the door of the shop) almost sent her sprawling on the icy pavement, but a hand reached out and grabbed her arm, steadying her.

Rose looked up at the man who owned the voice, and was treated to one of the oddest dressed people she thought she had ever met. He had riotously curly hair that peeked out from under a wide-brimmed brown hat. His eyes were large and round and very dark blue. He was wearing a long brown coat, a yellow waistcoat and an immensely long multi-coloured scarf.

"I didn't mean to startle you, but would you?"

"Would I what?" Rose asked, completely wrong-footed.

"Like a Jelly Baby," the man said, as though that should be obvious.

"Do you have any orange ones?" Rose felt that perhaps she had actually slipped and hit her head, and the entire conversation might be happening in her own fever dreams, except that she was so bitterly cold.

The man pulled a white bag from his overcoat pocket, peeked in, rustled the bag around a bit, and plucked from its depths a bright orange candy, and offered it to Rose on an extended palm.

Rose took the morsel and placed it in her mouth with a muttered, "Fanks."

"I'm sorry, is this your shop? Was I loitering? I should go."

The man did not appear to be a shopkeeper, but Rose thought she should be careful. She didn't want the police called on her.

"This is not my shop, and you need not go on my account," the man said simply.

"Right," Rose said, uncertainly. Rose turned back and looked at the bike, though she wasn't really seeing it. She was hyper-aware of the man to her left who, though silent, was still watching her.

After a moment or two, Rose felt she would go mad if she didn't break the silence.

"D'you know the time, mister?"

"Seven fourty-seven and 45 seconds."

Rose looked at him with a bit of shock. He hadn't even looked at a watch.

"Um… okay then, I'll be late for school if I don't leg it. Thanks for keeping me from slipping," Rose thought it would be rude to mention that it had been him surprising her to cause her to slip in the first place, "and thanks for the Jelly Baby. Orange ones are my favorite."

"Mine too," said the man.

"Yeah… well… bye."

Rose left the man. On Christmas Day, the red bicycle was waiting for her, and she never noticed the bewildered look on Jackie's face when Rose threw her arms around her mother with desperate joy.


	5. Doctor 5, Age 18

Rose Tyler and Jimmy Stone were fighting. Again.

They were in the bar where Jimmy's band had played a gig tonight, and, while Rose had sat at the bar nursing a beer, Jimmy had danced with a selection of beautiful and barely-dressed groupie girls. Rose had kept her resentment simmering below the surface, but when Jimmy came back to her and told her that she shouldn't drink beer, because it would go straight to her thighs, she couldn't keep it contained any more.

So she had screamed at him. And he had screamed back.

She threw his cheating into his face.

He threw her sexual inexperience into hers.

She told him she'd given up everything to be with him.

He told her she should have stayed in school so she wouldn't be so useless.

She told him she was done, she was leaving him.

He took a swing at her.

It wasn't the first time, but it was the first time he'd lost control in a crowd. Rose was lucky that she was popular here, because three guys stood up to drag Jimmy outside, and Pete, behind the bar, offered her another beer, free of charge when she sat down.

"You were serious about leaving him, were you not?" a voice from the stool to her left (which she would have sworn was empty when she sat down) asked her.

"After seeing him try to hit me? If anyone around here got wind that I was getting back with him, they'd have me sectioned." And wasn't that just wonderful of them all, Rose thought to herself. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

"Don't cry, brave heart," the man next to her said. His voice was oddly low and intimate, and Rose looked over at him for the first time.

He had a gorgeous face. That was the first thing she noticed about him. He had smooth cheeks, and lovely bright blue eyes. He had gently curling gold hair that was appealingly mussed.

Next she noticed his clothes, though it took a minute to draw her eyes away from his beautiful face. He appeared to be wearing old-fashioned cricket whites, including a matching white hat, which was set on the bar. In his lapel, where one might expect a school pin, or a flower, he had a large stalk of celery.

Rose's eyes made it back to the face, and the amusement that she could see in the man's eyes said that he knew she had looked him over, and was not offended by the perusal. Once her eyes had met his again, the man drew his eyes slowly down her form as well. Rose, unlike the man, blushed at the inspection.

At 18, Rose knew she was good-looking. She had a lovely hourglass shape which she had poured into tight jeans and a scoop-neck top. She'd taken great care with her makeup and jewelry tonight, wanting Jimmy to see that she did care about his band and their image. Fat lot of good it had done her, in the end.

"The boy you were with was a fool."

"No need to tell me. He won't come within a mile of me for a good long while, Charlie and Phil out there will be sure he knows that."

"That is good. I have a penchant for saving lovely ladies, but I prefer them when they don't need saving."

His smile at that moment should have been fined for public indecency.

Rose coughed uncomfortably. She was not the sort to end a relationship with one guy and hop straight into bed with another. While she was enjoying the banter, she thought that, perhaps, she should let the conversation die, and go back to her mother's flat (oh god, what would her mother say? Rose had only moved out and into Jimmy's flat three weeks ago) before anything else was said.

"Well, um... thanks for making me feel better and keeping an eye on me," Rose said, uncomfortably. "I'll just pay up with Pete here, and then I'm off home for the night."

"Please, I insist on paying, and seeing you safely to your door," the man said, gently.

"Seriously, mate," Rose was starting to get annoyed with this, "I don't need you to walk me home, and I'm paying for my own drink. I just walked away from another bloke who thought he could tell me what to do, and no one is going to start with that again any time soon." By the end of Rose's sentence, she was speaking much louder than she needed, but wasn't quite shouting. Pete, from behind the counter moved closer to her, not to stop her, but to stand in front of her if she needed a shield.

The man in cricket whites, however, smiled.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," he said, bumping up the smile to a quick flash of white teeth. He patted her arm absently and wandered out of the pub without a backward glance at her.

"You okay, Rosie?" Pete asked.

"You know, I'm not ready to deal with Mum just yet," Rose sighed as she returned to her barstool. "Pour me something pink and fruity, mate."


	6. Doctor 6, Age 6

Rose Tyler was going to be in the school play.

She was going to sing a solo, and dance with two other girls at the height of the end-of-term performance.

Jackie Tyler thought she might cry from the sheer weight of her pride.

Rose was going to get a new dress and shoes, and Jackie was going to do her hair up in a twist like the ladies in the magazines. She might even let Rose put on makeup if Rose was very good for the next two weeks before the performance.

Rose wanted her dress to be blue. That was her favorite color. Last week, and for three weeks previously, her favorite color was pink, but this week it was blue. Jackie thought the dress should still be pink and was looking at all the wrong things, but Rose knew it had to be blue.

In the first store, Rose couldn't find the right dress. She was sure that, the moment she saw it she would know that it was perfect, but it wasn't in that store. Jackie, on the other hand, found four dresses in shades of pink and red, and one in a turquoise that she told Rose would look beautiful on her. None of them were the right dress, Rose was sure of it, but Jackie insisted that Rose put each of them on.

When they got to the fitting rooms, Jackie tried to follow Rose into her room.

"No, mum, I can do it myself."

Jackie looked at the stubborn face of her daughter. This would be the first time that Rose had not had assistance in a shop's fitting room. Her daughter dressed herself every day, and would not come to grief, but Jackie felt a little pain in her heart knowing that even helping her dress like this was denied her now.

"Yeah, all right, you can go in by yourself, but don't you get into trouble. And don't talk to strangers!"

Rose tried on each dress in turn, and each one was wrong. She showed them to her mother, and Jackie mostly agreed, though the turquoise dress did cause a short argument. Rose knew it was a very beautiful dress, but it wasn't the _right_ dress.

The next shop was much the same, and the third was even worse. In the fourth shop, Jackie and Rose had taken to yelling at each other over the dresses that Rose tried on. Rose knew they weren't right, but Jackie insisted that Rose was just being difficult.

Rose returned to the three-way mirror in the dressing room and twirled in front of it in her mother's latest pink and white concoction.

"No, no, no. That will never do."

Rose looked into the mirror behind her, and there stood a man dressed in a mad assortment of clothes. He wore a long coat in a dozen bright shades. Oddly, he wore a pin in the shape of a cat on his lapel. He wore a brightly patterned waistcoat and a blue polka-dot tie. His hair was curly and gingery blonde, and his eyes were bright green. He was looking at her and shaking his head.

"Um..." Rose said. It wasn't much, but it was all she could think of.

"You were expecting someone else?"

"No, not really. What will never do?"

"The dress. It's all wrong."

"Yeah, I know. But my mum likes it. I want blue."

"Ah, yes. Blue is my favorite color. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue."

"What?"

"It's an old human poem, often repeated at weddings."

"Oh... are you going to a wedding? Is that why you're wearing that coat?"

"No, and you're very rude for mentioning it."

"I like your coat. And your cat pin."

"Thank you, that is very nice of you."

Rose smiled at him.

"Now," the man said, as though she had interrupted a very important thought that he must finish, "I know where just the right dress is."

Rose scrambled out of her mother's dress choice and into her normal clothes. She emerged from the fitting room to find her mother and the madly dressed man talking. He was telling her mother that he worked for the store, and that he thought he knew just the perfect gown for her little girl.

He vanished for 5 minutes and returned with the dress that Rose had been looking for all day. It was midnight blue with a high waist and a skirt that fell in beautiful folds of shiny, satiny fabric. All across the skirt were tiny rinestones. At the bottom, they were very thick, but they thinned out towards the top of the skirt. It looked like a night sky. Around the collar was an edging in the same rinestones, and at the center of the bodice was a large starburst.

Rose squeeled with delight and rushed with the dress back into the fitting room. She emerged and even Jackie could not deny that it was the perfect dress.

The man in the coat led them to the front of the store to check out. Rose could see Jackie's expression, however. Her mother looked worried, the way she always did when she started paying bills at the end of the month. Jackie thought the dress would be too expensive. When they got to the counter, the man attempted to ring up the dress, but found that there was no tag.

"What," he asked Jackie, "do you suppose is a fair price for this gown for your lovely girl?"

"Fair," Jackie asked, "or something that I can afford?"

"I think," the man said seriously, "that if you can afford it, it is more than fair."

Jackie named a price that they all knew was far too low, but the man entered it into the register without a single hesitation. He put the dress into the bag, and Rose and Jackie left in joyful spirits.


	7. Doctor 7, Age 15

Rose Tyler's mum was going to kill her. The second she walked in the door. Jackie would probably have gotten a gun from somewhere, or maybe a knife from her kitchen, or possibly she would just strangle her daughter with her bare hands.

She'd caught the wrong bus, and ended up on the other side of town. She'd caught another to get her back close to home, but she was going to have to walk seven blocks and, naturally, the second she had stepped off the bus, the skies had opened up and deluged upon her. So, for now, she was hiding in a covered doorway, muttering about how her mother was going to kill her.

"Why wasn't number 12 running tonight?" Rose muttered, as she ducked to avoid a car's rooster tail of water as it drove heedlessly by. "I wish..."

"If wishes were horses, then beggars would fly," a heavy Scottish accent came from behind her, and a man with an umbrella took a step to end up beside her in the doorway.

"That's not quite right," Rose said.

"I beg your pardon?" the man looked at her with sharp dark eyes, and a slight frown.

"What you said... I think it's 'if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.'"

"That's quite enough from you," he sounded irritated at being corrected, "now, are you going to stand in that doorway all night or are you going to let me walk you to your destination?"

"Uh... I'm not really sure I should."

"I assure you, I have none but the most noble of intentions. You were saying that your mother would kill you, and I do like to prevent murder when I can."

"I didn't mean to talk that loud. Sorry."

"Nothing to it, I have superior hearing."

Rose glanced at her watch, "if I don't start home soon, I'll be really late."

"Well come on then, child. Time and tide melt the snowman."

Rose was pretty sure that wasn't right either, but it at least made a bit more sense than what he'd said at first. He seemed to have trouble with his sayings.

Rose joined the Scottish man under his umbrella and they set a brisk pace towards her neighborhood. He was only as tall as she was, with dark hair under a grey bowler hat. He wore a brown suit coat and a paisley-print tie. He looked ordinary except for the jumper he wore which was knitted with question marks all over it, and the question marks embroidered on his shirt collar. Rose glanced at his umbrella and saw that the handle was looped into the shape of a question mark as well.

"Nice brolly," Rose said, with a breath of humor, "did you steal it from the prop room of a Batman movie or something?"

"Hardly," the man's response was clipped and somewhat bitter.

"Sorry, didn't mean to touch a nerve. It's really nice of you to help me out," Rose glanced at her watch again, "we might even get there fast enough that Mum won't completely kill me. Maybe just ground me for six weeks instead." Rose sighed, she might have preferred just being killed than spending six weeks in the flat with Jackie and no distractions but the telly.

"I am not nice," the man responded, sharply and enigmatically.

They continued in silence that grew progressively more oppressive the farther they went. Finally, at the edge of the play park, Rose stopped the little man.

"Look, my place is just up the road. Maybe if I'm a bit wet, mum will have some sympathy for me and not ground me for a year."

"I am very fond of this play park," the man said, apropos of nothing.

"Yeah, I am too," Rose said, in confusion.

"Good night then."

"Yeah, night. Thanks again."

Jackie was a bit sympathetic to Rose's plight, but Rose was still grounded for two weeks.


	8. Doctor 8, Age 10

This would be Rose's last competition in the Under-Sevens gymnastics team.

She was pretty good.

Well, when she said 'pretty good,' she meant 'all right.'

Well, when she said 'all right,' she meant...

"Okay girls, we're here," the coach's bright, chipper voice startled Rose out of her thoughts. The bus had brought them to the school where the competition would be held. Rose and her teammates left the bus in single file, everyone looking a bit nervous.

The teacher led them into the locker rooms where they would be changing into their competition uniforms- purple and blue spandex and nude tights. Rose stayed aloof from the other girls (who were nasty to her, being from the wrong side of the tracks) and stayed quiet, hoping that the butterflies in her stomach might calm down if she just focused and breathed.

The team filed out and sat on their assigned bench to wait for the audience and the other teams. Over the next half hour, people filed into the gymnasium and took their places. The other teams took their assigned benches, and all of the day's gymnasts were quiet. Rose couldn't help but believe that they were as nervous as she was. The butterflies had turned into sparrows.

To take her mind off of things, she watched people filing into the gym. She grinned and waved when Jackie, Cousin Mo, Shireen, Mickey and Mickey's grandmother Rita-Anne came in and took a seat about halfway up one side of the bleachers. Knowing that they were there for her made her feel a bit better. She was still afraid of disappointing them, however.

She kept watching people. She recognized some of her teammates' parents and siblings. There were a few teachers from her school. Most everyone, however, was unknown.

Towards the back, there was a man who looked like he might have wandered in on accident. He looked like he wasn't sure why he was there, and he was dressed like he might have just come from performing in a play. He wore dark green velvet tails and a gold waistcoat and cravat. His hair was soft brown and curly. He did not smile, he looked on everything rather cooly and stood with his arms crossed over his chest as though to keep himself distant from the rabble.

Rose looked back at her family and well-wishers to take heart from their presence again.

When the competition started, Rose watched her competitors carefully. The girls from the other schools were very good, but she thought she might be as good as them.

When it came to be her turn, she performed her floor routine flawlessly for the very first time. At the end, she stood in the middle of the mat, feet together and arms raised above her head. She looked at her mother and friends as they stood and cheered and screamed for her.

When it was announced that she had taken the bronze, the only girl from her school's team to take any medal, her family gave her a standing ovation. Rose chanced a look at the man in velvet. He clapped in a desultory way, as though simply completing a necessary task.

Afterwords, Jackie and Rita-Anne took the whole group out for ice cream and chips. Rose had never been more proud of herself.


	9. Doctor 9, Age 1

It was too loud for Rose Tyler to sleep.

Mummy had been in a distracted rush all day, and Daddy hadn't really been around except for right after Rose had woken up, while she sat strapped into her chair eating her cereal.

There had been lots of ladies around, cooing and covered in pink, but Rose didn't much care. Now it was too loud and it made her angry. She opened her mouth for a wail, but suddenly gentle hands were on her, soothing her.

Mummy was yellow, so it wasn't Mummy. Daddy was gingery and blue, so it wasn't Daddy. This person was black, mostly, and a little bit blue.

Rose was picked up and cradled against a chest. She nuzzled into it, and knew that this was someone kind of like Daddy, but they smelled different. Good different.

There was a voice, low and modulating. It was funny sounding, somehow. Not like Mummy or Daddy's voices. It said her name a few times.

"Rose."

"Rose Tyler."

The way the voice said her name made her happy. It was a good voice, and a good person who held her.

Suddenly, someone else came over. Someone who was yellow like Mummy, and pink as well. That person reached to touch her too, and Rose was suddenly being moved quickly out of the way and placed back into her carrier. That made her mad. She had liked being held.

She started to make a fuss, hoping that she would be picked up again, but the hands just reached in and stroked her for a few moments, and rocked her.

It seemed like it was quiet enough, and Rose went back to sleep.


	10. Doctor 10, Age 19

Rose said goodnight to Jackie as the older woman headed to the next pub, and Rose headed towards home. It had been a good night, (with the exception of missing the countdown because of Jackie's useless boyfriend) but Henrick's expected her in first thing in the morning, New Year's Day or no.

As she walked through the falling snow towards their flat, she heard a sudden movement behind her in the alleyway.

There was a tall, thin man in brown pinstripes and a long coat, his face away from her, head down as though in pain.

"You all right?" Rose asked him.

He looked up, "yeah."

"Too much to drink?"

"Something like that."

He didn't sound like he'd had too much to drink. His words were clear and un-slurred. His brown eyes seemed to drink her in, though she was sure she'd never met him before.

"Maybe it's time you went home."

"Yeah."

Rose noticed the tension in his shoulders. He seemed to be holding himself under rock-solid control. Maybe that was how he was staying so clear.

"Anyway, Happy New Year."

Rose gave him her mega-watt grin. Mickey always said her smile was her best feature. It was what he'd fallen in love with.

"And you."

Rose turned and left, gripping her arms with the cold. She had gone about five steps when he spoke again.

"What year is this?"

Rose turned, surprised, "blimey, how much have you had?"

He gave a noncommittal jerk of his head at that.

"2005, January the first."

The date seemed to mean something to him.

"2005?" he shook his head.

"I'll tell you what," he said, sounding strained, "I'll bet you are going to have a really great year."

Rose smiled in surprise, "yeah?"

He just smiled. She could see pain around his eyes, but he had dimples that popped out with that smile. Rose turned away for a moment, then turned back and grinned at him again.

"See ya!"

Then Rose went home. It was a really great year. A Fantastic year, in fact.


	11. Doctor 11, Age 13

Rose Tyler had failed her history test and was being sent to tutoring.

Normally she was pretty good at history, but she preferred Ancient Rome or the Egyptians to World Wars 1 and 2. European history always seemed to consist of wars and churches and churches going to war. She knew that wasn't entirely true, that the Egyptians had gone to war, and their Gods caused them no end of trouble, but it felt more distant than World War 2 and London.

Tutoring was held in some small, dingy, little-used classrooms in the west wing of the school building. She'd let her mum know that she would have to stay after today, and she bade Shireen goodbye as she trudged into the room she'd been instructed to go to by her history teacher.

Rose opened the door to room 11 and stepped in. It smelled of dust with a bit of underlying mold. She was the only student in for history, she saw, and the man who stood and the window wasn't one of the teachers, and looked a bit too old to be one of the students.

Usually her school would do after-hours tutoring with upper-form students or teachers who volunteered. Rose didn't think they hired people off the street to tutor.

The man turned from the window as Rose walked into the classroom. He took her in in a quick glance of those bright green eyes and grinned hugely. It was a really nice smile, Rose thought nonsensically.

Before Rose could introduce herself the man bounded up to her, grabbed her hand and started shaking it.

"Rose Tyler, as I live and breathe," he said, sounding deliriously happy.

"Yeah, I'm Rose," Rose said, wondering if she knew this man somehow, "did they tell you I'd be coming?"

"Yes, of course," he dropped her hand, but did not look away from her, "failed a history test, I understand."

"Yeah," Rose muttered, petulantly, "World War 2."

"And why not?" he bounded away, Rose had the impression that this man rarely remained still for any length of time, "never been to World War 2, you haven't. Maybe someday, but not yet!"

Rose wasn't really listening. She pulled the test paper she had failed out of her bag and opened a notebook on the desk she had chosen. She pulled out her favorite blue pen and settled down to watch the tutor.

He looked like a teacher, she had to admit that, even if his face was a bit prettier than any of her teachers. He wore a tweed jacket with elbow patches. His trousers were a bit too short, and his shoes were slightly old-fashioned. He wore red braces, rather than a belt, and a burgundy bow tie. His hair was brown and flopped over his right eye as he moved. He moved, constantly.

Rose continued to watch him as he prattled. He was as nervous as a sparrow. He only occasionally even looked at her, in fact, he seemed to be avoiding looking at her. Every time his eyes landed on her, they seemed to skitter away as though she were too bright to linger on. Finally, Rose cut into the blither.

"Excuse me, Professor..." Rose halted, not knowing his name.

"Doctor, actually, Doctor John Smith," he extended his hand to her again, finally looking at her. "I'm here substituting for a few weeks, and thought I'd get my hand in on a bit of tutoring when I saw the list this morning."

Rose placed her hand in his again, briefly, before drawing it back to herself.

"John Smith, really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't realize that anyone was actually named John Smith. Bet you get that a lot though, don't you Dr. Smith?"

"People don't seem to notice much, really," he said, glancing at her in a calculating way.

"People never seem to notice much, actually," Rose agreed, "but maybe we should get on with going over this test. I'm really only supposed to be in tutoring for an hour."

"Yes, of course, and hour." His eyes were suddenly sad.

Rose handed him her test paper, and he took it from her hand, his cool fingers brushing hers for a moment. Rose frowned slightly. She hoped he wasn't flirting with her. He was handsome enough, but he was a teacher, and she wasn't that kind. Shireen had talked about trying to have sex with a teacher for an A, but Rose was sure it was all talk.

"The questions circled in red are the ones I got wrong."

Doctor Smith drew a pair of round spectacles from his jacket pocket. He glanced at them, as though surprised to have them. His eyes went sad again for a moment, but he resolutely placed the spectacles on his nose and glanced through the questions, "ah, here we go," he cried, eyes lighting on one, "Winston Churchill. Good old Winnie! Great bloke, always trying to steal my keys though."

Rose listened to him with her eyebrows raised. She took note any time he gave a date, or something resembling a relevant name. Mostly, however, he just tripped over his own words as they flowed like water. He rambled and babbled and mixed himself up.

Doctor Smith moved on to another question that concerned Adolph Hitler, "put him in the cupboard, we did," he grumbled.

Rose let him keep going through the questions. She asked him nothing, and only listened to him with half an ear. This was not how she had anticipated her tutoring session going, if she were honest with herself. Though he seemed to know what he was talking about, he had such an odd way about him that Rose found herself put off by this strange Doctor Smith.

Finally, at approximately five minutes to the hour, Doctor Smith sat beside her.

"Look," he said, suddenly serious, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I think I may understand a bit more about World War 2, and it's your first time tutoring. I'm sure you'll get better," she said, trying to be understanding.

"Maybe," he muttered, "but it's not that. Listen..." he seemed to be struggling to find words, "I'm just sorry. I just need to say that."

"All right," Rose said, warily, "you're forgiven."

A slow smile spread across his face, and his eyes (why did his eyes seem so old?) grew bright. She might have thought there were tears there, but his smile was suddenly so brilliant that she must have been mistaken.

Rose got up to leave. As she reached the door, Doctor Smith's voice stopped her one last time.

"Rose Tyler," Rose turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised, "I don't know how to tell you how fantastic it has been to meet you."

Rose smiled at him, and left the classroom.

Walking home, she bumped into a man who was walking in the opposite direction from her. He wore a long blue wool trenchcoat. He had a gorgeous face, and perfect dark hair. His blue eyes smiled at her, as he grabbed her hand to steady her.

"Sorry about that," Rose said to him.

"My fault," he said with an American accent.

Rose smiled at him and continued on her way.


End file.
